Many years ago when Taylor turned two she began a wonderful (yet irritating) new approach to life: independence. Whether putting on shoes or brushing her teeth her motto was, “I do it myself.” 

“I do it myself” was most annoying when she thought she had it all figured out - but was actually clueless.

I remember one morning when we were running late. I knelt down to help her put on her coat. “I do it myself,” she said, spinning around and desperately trying to shove her arm through the hood.

But this independent attitude isn’t just for toddlers. I’ll admit, there have been times in my life when I tried to “do it myself,” but was also clueless. Take my marriage for example.

Like many married couples, my husband and I have gone through challenges. But instead of turning to God for help, I formulated my own plan. Like a stubborn two-year-old, I thought I could fix the problem.    

So I tried … and tried … and tried … but guess what?  None of my feeble attempts changed the situation. It wasn’t until I swallowed my pride and sincerely asked God for help that real change took place. God was probably saying, “Whew, she’s finally out of the way! Now I can start helping them through this.”

My job wasn’t to fix the problem. My job was to pray – and get out of God’s way. Once I let God take control, I was amazed at what He could do. Even without my help!

Photo of "Grumpy Child" by Clare Bloomfield: http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/

When Curt and I heard that Olympic gold medalist, Shawn Johnson was coming to speak at an event in the Quad Cities, we knew one little gymnast that would love to attend. I purchased four tickets for me and my girls.   

A couple weeks later, through a connection at work, Curt was offered a ticket for one of our girls to attend the “meet and greet” afterwards. Hmmm … now which one of our girls might like to meet Shawn Johnson? Talk about a no-brainer!  

Then Madison’s gymnastics team was invited to perform on the balance beam before Shawn (and her mom, Teri) came out to speak. Madison was pumped!                           

At first I was tempted to wait until that night to surprise Madison. I imagined the look on her face when I’d tell her she could go backstage and meet Shawn Johnson. But after further consideration, I decided not to spring it on her. Instead, I ran it by her at dinner. Her quick response left no room for doubt. 

“Are you kidding? She’s like the President to me!”

After much anticipation on Madison’s part, we attended “An Evening with Shawn Johnson” last Thursday night. Shawn spoke about her journey of becoming an Olympic gymnast and also shared a few experiences from Dancing with the Stars.

I particularly enjoyed one story Shawn shared from her time at the 2008 Olympics. Immediately after winning a silver medal, a news reporter stuck a microphone in Shawn’s face and asked, “So Shawn, how does it feel to lose?”

Shawn took a moment to gather her thoughts. Now wait a minute, she thought. I just won a silver medal at the Olympics! What is wrong with the world?

Shawn looked at the reporter and said, “I didn’t lose. I won a silver medal.”

Shawn added, “When you win a gold medal, you get all the attention. But if you win silver, you’re pretty much invisible.” Shawn chuckled as she described how others reacted to her silver medal. “People just give you an awkward look and quietly say, “Oh. Good try.”

But Shawn said she couldn’t have been happier with her silver medal. She knew she had done her best and was proud of her accomplishments.

Overall, Shawn’s message to young girls was unmistakable:

Believe in your dreams.  

Dare to be different.  

Embrace what you love.  

Be your own person.

Coincidentally, those are the same things I try to teach my girls. But for some reason, hearing it from your mom isn’t quite the same as hearing it from an Olympic champion.

As I left that night with my three little ladies – my youngest with an autographed pamphlet, a special photo with Shawn, and a wide smile – I had only one thought.

Thanks, Shawn. I couldn’t have said it better myself.

My girls have been on summer break for a week now. Needless to say, my routine is a little out of whack. Each morning I begin the day ready to tackle my to-do list. But before I know it, it’s time to drive someone to band camp. Or gymnastics. Or softball. 
 
Then there’s the ever-popular sidetracking questions like, “Will you play a game with me?” and “I’m hungry; what are we having for lunch?” 

Don’t get me wrong, I love having the girls at home. But every night I fall into bed and wonder what I did that day.

So the other night I decided to revise my to-do list. Instead of worrying about all the unchecked items, I decided to focus on what I did accomplish. Here’s the revised list:

• I didn’t get any writing done, but I did get a new idea for an article.
  
• I didn’t clean the van, but I did go on a walk with the girls.
  
• I didn’t sort through the rest of our summer clothes, but I did have a good chat with a friend on my way to pick up the girls.
  
• I didn’t finish critiquing an article for my writers group, but I did play a game of checkers with Madison. (She won, by the way!)
  
• I didn’t cook a big, fancy dinner, but I did get the floors vacuumed.
  

Somehow, making those changes helped me feel better about my day. 

And now that I think about it, summertime might be a good time to forget the list. After all, I got this blog done – and it wasn’t even on my list.


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After 14 years, one might think I’d have this motherhood thing figured out. But it seems to me lately my job has changed. Sometimes I forget that little detail and need a reminder. Like the one I got last week …

Emily and I were rushing around the house, trying to leave for Taylor’s softball game. I was heading toward the door, hands full of water bottles and bug spray, when Emily walked into the kitchen. She hasn’t even changed yet.

“Em, we need to get going – hurry and change your clothes.”

She shook her head. “No Mom, I’m wearing this. I’m ready to go.”

I took another look. Why would she wear that? It was hot outside. She was wearing black sweats – and a shirt way too dressy to wear with sweats.

So I explained why I didn’t think her outfit was the best choice.

And she explained why she thought it was.

So I pushed my opinion a little further.

And then she pushed hers back.

And on it went until finally she ran upstairs and changed her clothes. She didn’t stomp up the steps. She didn’t slam her door. She just changed her clothes.

But the expression on her face when she returned told me I’d taken it too far. Suddenly, the whole argument seemed ridiculous and blown way out of proportion. My thoughts nagged at me as we drove to the game.

She’s not a little girl anymore. What would it hurt if she wore sweats? She’s old enough to dress herself for heavens sake!

Then I remembered something Emily had told me a few days earlier. At the time, I didn’t think much about it. Several girls at school had to change into their PE clothes because their shorts were too short. Then it hit me.

Emily is a good kid. This argument wasn’t about what she was wearing. This was about me.

My mom always says, “When it comes to teenagers, you need to pick your battles.” Now that I’m a mom, I see the wisdom in that. I took a deep breath and swallowed my pride.

“Emily, I’m sorry. There was nothing wrong with what you were wearing. I’m not sure why I freaked out.”

She stared out the window in silence. I continued. 

“But I might have a clue,” I said, fighting the lump in my throat. “After 14 years of telling you what to do, I think I’m just having a hard time breaking the habit.”

She turned from the window and looked at me. “Okay Mom.” 

Hopefully someday she’ll be the mom of a teenager. Maybe then she’ll understand what it feels like when your job changes.      

In the meantime, I'll keep working on my on-the-job training. I’ll admit, it isn't easy adjusting to this new role. Instead of being the “boss,” I’m working toward becoming more of an “advisor.” I know I’ve got a lot to learn. But I’ve already started on lesson #1 – Learning how to pick my battles.
 


*photo courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net / By Jeroen van Oostrom